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Printed by 

SEATTLE PRINTING & PUBLISHING CO.. 

SEATTLE, WASH. 

1920 






Dedicated to the Spirit 

of 

ANDREAS HOFER 

Gift 

Author 

OCT K »a» 



CONTENTS 



EDELWEISS AND ALPROSE. 

ANDREAS HOFER. 

THE RANGER'S HOUSE. 

HOME THOUGHT OF A TIROLER. 

BROKEN TOYS. 

THE FOREST CHAPEL. 

A HOMESONG. 

TO THE EDELWEISS. 

ALPINE MEMORIES. 

CHILDHOOD'S SOUVENIRS. 

CASTLES IN RUINS. 

FAREWELL TIROL. 

THE THRESHOLD. 

TO THE WANDERER. 

MESSAGE FROM THE STAR. 

MY GARDENER. 

CREATIONS. 

AUTUMN. 

ON READING BROWNING'S "STILL ONE MUST LEAD 
SOME LIFE BEYOND." 

SPRING TIME. 



EDELWEISS AND ALPROSE. 



Two mountain blossoms, white and red, 

I used to pluck many a time; 

Oft with them did I crown my head 

And all around a gladness spread 

In homeland while in life's sweet prime. 

As Edelweiss the first is known. 
Queen of the Alps is she by right; 
Life-risking boldness had I shown 
Whenever I wished her to own 
Defying all perils of height. 

The red one is the Rose of Rocks, 
From crevices of crags she greets, — 
Her bells hang from bushy stocks 
Accosting shepherds with their flocks 
When at twilight the crowd she meets. 

The same blossoms the hillfolks proud 
Brought as gifts to soldiers brave 
To deck their helmets with cheers loud. 
While from the village they marched out 
From tyrant's grasp homeland to save. 

These flowers of Tirolese land, 

The symbols of virtue and might. 

On heroes' graves with grateful hand 

I will strew, and in prayer stand 

For souls who fought for country's right. 



ANDREAS HOFER 



O greatest of our martyrs! rise again, 

Our wounded hearts scream to the Lord in pain, 

Turn to life from that lofty marble stand. 

And feel the grasp of each Tiroler's hand! 

In the woes of death our folks agonize, 

To thee with hopes they raise their tear-stained eyes, 

Come down from Iselberg, may thy grand call 

Be a war-herald's trumpet to us all! 

Wake, lover of thy people! and inspire 
Every youthful soul; let thy voice like fire 
Kindle each and all hearts to one huge flame 
That may the freedom of mountains proclaim! 



THE RANGER'S HOUSE 



Along the mossy forest glade 
Stand pines erect in youthful bloom, 
Old willow trees for years have made 
Their lonesome home in woodland gloom. 

Wild rose heaths in their bosom hide 
The cozy little ranger's cot. 
Pruned shrubs a fancy fence provide, 
A Bernard dog watches the spot. 

Antlers' horns the wooden house adorn, 
The garden glows with carnations red, 
Green shades shut out the sun at morn 
From spinning on walls the golden thread. 

Stuffed birds and squirrels are here seen 
And skins of foxes side by side 
And heads of deer with eyes cut clean, — 
In all these rests the hunter's pride. 

Breezes are borne on evening's wings, 
Rustling reeds are covered with dew. 
Perched on alders the wood-thrush sings. 
The landscape wears a novel view. 

The pale moon sheds her gloomy light 
That peeps through twigs on chequered way. 
Magic lamps shine in glow-worms bright 
And guide folks home at close of day. 

The night clothes with darkness tender 
The hunter's home with all its charms, 
And pines and firs all so slender 
Sleep in nature's loving arms. 



HOME THOUGHT OF A TIROLER 



O might I be in my homeland again! i 

Where to the edelweiss the folk heart clings, '< 

Where the hues from rose-hills in cloudland dwell, ] 

Where childhood's playmate is the meek gazelle, J 

And the peasant the deeds of Hofer sings! ) 

} 

Up to the mountain heights how would I climb! j 

How would I greet the Alpine world once more, \ 

And wear on my back the knapsack again, ' 

Sporting with rocks in sunshine or in rain, i 

And hear the tempests through the valleys roar! i 

Might I wander over bright glacier fields ] 

And tune the soul with the eternal snows l 

That in waving peaks reproduce the sea, j 

Foamy-crested white when storm rages free, < 

And shed on glassy hills crystal rainbows! ■; 

Might I lie quiet on turfy green wayside j 

And look into the sparkling deep blue lakes j 

Which mirror forth every ice-crowned hill, i 

Leafy vales where sheep in flocks nibble still, ' 

And wind-driven clouds that run like wild snowf lakes! j 

Might I saunter through upland groves, < 

Listening to the notes of the nightingale, : 

How would I count the cuckoo's twofold call, j 

And follow the songs of the waterfall ■ 

That feeds hundred rills beneath the dale! ) 

Might I visit dear remembered places ' 
Out in the recess of pine forests deep, 

Where every tree its friendship proclaims '•■ 

And every bench bears old comrades' names i 

And homely breezes balmy currents keep! \ 



BROKEN TOYS 



Far away my restless thoughts do fly, 
Swiftly rushing through the amber sky. 
Far away to a snow-clad mountain-top, 
Where they find a peaceful place to stop. 

Far away, where the breeze's touch is cold. 
Their wings they warm in the sunset's purest gold, 
Far way, under fir trees wrapped in snow. 
They seek for my joys of long, long ago. 

Far away, where my rocky homeland lies. 
Hush, hush, they go like little fireflies, 
Far away, through forests young and green. 
Where they gather buried dreams unseen. 

Far away, over meadows' tinted floors. 
Yet they find my childhood's fancy doors. 
And greet its heavenly visions and joys 
And merrily play with old broken toys. 



THE FOREST CHAPEL 



Between many a slumb'ring pine and fir 
The small white forest chapel sweetly peeps; 
No turmoil is here, nobody astir — 
Here where Solitude her kingdom keeps. 

Twilight draws near, silence rules woody shades, 
Birds are now ceasing to chirp and hover, 
The freshness of delicate blossoms fades, 
A bewitching calm prevails all over. 

nearest thou the bells touchingly ringing? 
They call the passers-by to evening prayers, 
The sweet ging-gongs are steadily bringing 
Pensive moods of devotion in layers. 

In darkness rests the holy shrine within, 
Only the "eternal lamp" shines at spots; 
The pilgrim crosses the threshold serene, 
In hand a boquet of forget-me-nots. 

At the altar's foot he offers the flowers 
And up to heaven his prayer he sends. 
Thanking heartily for this solemn hour 
That at last to homeland his journey tends. 

The night comes on, and the stars, one by one, 
Are shining down on earth so clear and bright; 
O lovely forest shrine! when can I run 
Homeward as pilgrim and have thee in sight? 



10 



A HOMESONG 



Under the leafy willow I sat and from afar 
I heard a tender homesong played on a guitar, 
And a tremendous longing crept in my young heart 
For my mountain village, from which I had to part. 

O heavenly song! thou bringest joyous greetings 
From primal Alpine life and plain shepherds' meetings, 
From primrose that encircles the edelweiss star. 
From jackdaws that build their nests on the woodland 
scar. 

O wonderful song! thou speakest of golden hours 
In rose-shrouded huts and ivory-laced bowers. 
In dells where the lily of the valley grows. 
On glacier peaks diademed v/ith age-long snows. 

O friendly song! thou breakest the strange land's hard 

ice. 
And liftest the veil through which peeps my paradise. 
Far away wherein the years full of blossoms bright 
Went by like a continuous streamlet of light. 

O glorious song! ring on through the silent wood. 
Thy words of love I have feelingly understood; 
Skywards thy sounds raised me with enrapturing 

charms. 
And eager to hold thee close I extend my arms. 

When the last note has satisfied my heart's wild desire 
And the query seems to come from the silent lyre 
To my inmost being: "Do you still love Tirol?" 
Tears drop from my eyes while I cry with heart and 
soul. 



11 



TO THE EDELAVEISS 



O stainless edelweiss, 
Shining silver star, 
Thy chosen paradise 
Snowy mountains are, 
Where as queen thou reignest in regions wide and far, 

A robe of spotless white 
Falls in simple grace 
Down delicate and bright; 
Dew-drops thee embrace 
Sparkling on thy gown and on thy bridal face. 

The morning sun's first kiss 
Is for thy pale lips 
A never-ending bliss. 
Into thy heart he dips 
And with lover's burning fire thy juicy soul sips. 

Murmuring v/inds create 
Pleasant melodies, 
At thy dwelling's high gate 
Sings the Tirolese 
Songs of woodland and blue sky in deep harmonies. 

The night's noiseless sky 
Carries thee fair dreams. 
While through the clouds on high 
The ling'ring moon beams 
Drink full thy sleeping beauty in silver streams. 

Rivulets as they glide 
Send thee a slumber-song, 
And cloud-doors open wide 
For the stars that long 
To have thee, their lost sister, in their dancing throng. 



12 



ALPINE MEMORIES 



Tlie Alpine flowers whicli have lain for years 
Within the book of my sweet souvenirs 
Bring back to me the sounds from pine-clad hills, 
I hear the tinklings that the cow-bells make, 
And the hunter's shots that the forest shake, 
And deep melodies from splashing rills. 

little blossoms, mountain treasures small. 
How often in my life do ye recall 

The past! and I forget the present day, 
Borne by ye on memory's golden wings, 
Playing on flying vision's charming strings, 
And dreaming myself in fancies away — 

To the time vrhen I a highlander bright 
Stood on the morn of life watching the light. 
Use once more. Fancy, thy magic powers, 
Thou sweetest friend to mankind, rich and poor. 
Link me up with the happy days of yore 
Which time has garnered in her rolling hours. 

Carry me again thronrr^^ +ho rainbow gates 
That clouds build on hills and pine colonnades; 
Let me see the arches painted on high, 
See them doubled down in the river clear, 
And watch the sunball with the mountaineer 
Dropping at dusk between slopes from the sky. 

Guide me walking across the gorges steep 
While I look down the frightening chasm deep. 
Where rhododendrons illumine the walls; 

1 would hear blue willow gentians speak. 
Greet the edelweiss on the cloud-swept peak, 
Responding to the white narcissus's calls. 



13 



CHILDHOOD'S SOtTVENIRS 



Come, my love, with me across the sunburnt plain 
Over the waving carpet brown and green, 
Sing to the birds and join in their refrain. 
That melting music behind the twilight screen! 
See, my love, the sunset of my childhood gay, 
With silver streamlets laughing here and there, 
And feel flower-secrets from the wild woods gray 
Borne by butterflies through the mountain air, 
While my young heart still takes part in their joy 
and pain! 

Come, my love, follow me through the darksome lane, 
Where glow-worms were my lamps, red, green and 

white. 
Brightening the mossy path with a golden chain, 
But to blow those lights out was my delight! 
See, my love, the evening weaves us garlands 
And the forest monarch, the great oak tree. 
Shakes refreshed his rain-drenched knightly hands 
And sprinkles on our heads the pearl-drops free 
While my young heart still takes part in their joy 
and pain! 



14 



CASTLES IN RUINS 



Up in the cliffy heights of hillside rocks 
Stand relics of castles of knightly stocks. 
Where tempests work havoc all day; 
Replete with legends of the life of old, 
Of joyous banquets memories they hold, — 
Of festal young maidens with hair of gold 
And smiling cavaliers gay. 

The black battlements tell us the story 

They have witnessed here of ancient glory 

In woodland manorial halls; 

Exposed long to the heaviest showers. 

Can still be marked the half-destroyed towers. 

And despite the seasons' changeful powers 

Flourish the ivy-mantled walls. 

Dark as are shadows between tree spaces, 
The ruins mount guard here in frozen paces 
All devoid of hope, lifeless, alone; 
No more are they in splendor and in light, 
Gone are the golden ages of the knight. 
And all that is left over of their might 
Is but bewildered blocks of stone. 

Frightful horrorp today loom up again 
Of innocent travelers robbed and slain 
In these blood-stained dungeons cold; 
The weatherbeaten walls are steep and gray. 
Scattered like tombstones on craggy way, 
They bespeak the sudden passing away 
Of the manners of barons bold. 

The green moss carpets still the mountain floor. 

Its pathway upwards it makes to the door 

That once opened to chambers grand; 

But vanished have trophies of diverse modes, 

Many an animal seek their abodes, — 

Moles, vultures and hounds have replaced the codes 

That had governed the markgraf's land. 

No more do the stones feel the rhythmic gait 

Of haughty horsemen or pages of state 

As they set out to watch alarm; 

The music of the harp is heard no more. 

Dumb is the minnesinger's race of yore 

Who charmeth the soul with chivalrous love lore 

In silver moonlit evenings warm. 

Nobody now disturbs nocturnal quiet. 

Only the shriek of the owl breaks the night 

Among the frigid stony mass; 

Bizarre and gloomy are the sounds on high. 

And the gusts of winds wail and fly 

Through broken palisades that seem to cry 

Over heaps of feudal carcass. 

15 i 



FAREWELL TIROL 



Farewell, farewell, O Alpine ranges mine, 
Thou youthful fir, thou lovely silverpine, 
I must wander in a land far from thee 
Where hill-belted cities I may never see. 

Farewell, farewell, thou mystic solitude, 
Ye charming cattle chimes, thou cowherd's flute. 
Ye glacier peaks, thou evening sky so red. 
Thou brightly colored mountain flower-bed. 

Farewell, farewell, ye peaceful pastures calm. 
Thou woodland quiet, thou perfect nature's balm, 
Ye grazing cattle, thou sweet shepherd song, 
Thou foamy little Sill that prattles along. 

Farewell, farewell, thou springing chamois brown, 
Thou edelweiss, dressed in a silver gown. 
Ye clear echoes from highland girls and boys. 
Ye pretty birds with melting trilling voice. 

Farewell, farewell, clefts belabored with snow, 
Thou rocky labyrinth in morning glow. 
Ye hillfolks, and ye peasants from the dale, 
Alpine huts and cottages in the vale. 

Farewell, farewell, thou dearest country mine, 
Worshipped and loved by all the children thine; 
I will be true to Hofer and his land. 
When far away by the cool ocean's strand. 



16 



THE THRESHOLD 



Between the ocean and the sky 

You and I 

Did we stand one cold autumn night 

Without light; 

One lustrous star watched from above 

Our sweet love, 

And the pale moon came from the east 

To the feast. 

Heaven lit the lamps for the hall 

One and all. 

How they flickered in the brisk air 

Here and there! 

And sonorous winds with power 

In that hour 

Blew trumpets full of joy and pride. 

None replied; 

But on the flute a Neptune's maid 

Solos played, 

And we listened to the steady 

Melody. 

A spritely nymph arose and spread 

On our head 

Odors from the sea's prickly smell, 

Then she fell 

Back in her foamy dark blue bed 

Just like dead. 

And the wavelets danced with delight 

All in white. 

Mermaids from the ocean deep 

Tried to peep 

As we (Jlasped our arms one moment 

Without end; 

Slowly they cast their magic veil 

On the sail. 

And we passed into hands of fate. 

Heaven's gate. 



17 



TO THE WANDERER 



O silent, wand'ring bird! wilt thou return 
With homeward flowing current to thy nest? 
Then fly, and cross the raging ocean's breast; 
May the moist-cool breezes like scented fern 
Fan thee and soothe thy wings and feet that bumf 
Break the sun's arrows and the cloud's white chest. 
Tame roaring tempests, laugh at their unrest; 
Sing at morn and eve while on thy sojourn, 
Sip the fragrance from chrysanthemums fair; 
Bathe in silver waters of pine-girt springs. 
Rest on willow branches in mid-day glare, 
Enjoy the twilight that evening brings. 
At length, with rapidity cut the air 
Until back in thy nest repose thy wings. 



IS 



MESSAGE FROM THE STAR 



Thy guiding star, yes, thy most loving call 

It heard, while with the crowd it walked the ways 

Above. Now the earth's commands it obeys 

In orbit fixed. Don't call it dim or small 

Nor dark this narrow track of mud and wall; 

New life is goldened by love's sunny rays. 

Through the revolving seasons thy star stays 

With thee. Thy soul is its great temple hall 

In which it hangs alone to glorify 

Thy aspirations with eternal light. 

Thou foundst thy world in the star; from on high 

It fell into thy heart; thus it replied. 

Yet to all it is a star in the sky 

Who wanders with its sisters side by side. 



19 



MY GARDENER 



On the sea-shore, where the waves with hands cold, 

Took thee from me, did I stand; in a veil 

Of clouds the boat moved on with the strong gale; 

My hope died with the sunrays' last deep gold. 

I cried: "Come back, come back!" O pain untold, 

It is too soon to leave me and to sail. 

O blossoms, strangers yet in my heart's dale. 

Should ye have to wither at love's threshold? 

While they are lying asleep through dark years 

Their petals closed I 'shall caress, and sing 

Until thy return; then with boundless cheers 

Greet thee, the gardener, my beloved king, 

Adorning thy head with a wreath of tears 

Gathered in lonesome hours spring after spring. 



20 



CREATIONS 



In woodland's mossy heart, 
Bathed in bright sunshine. 
From throng and crowd apart 
The youth seeks a design. 
Sketching a knightly tree, girt by a creeping vine. 

On the winding river's brink 
Where the sun's hot rays 
Deep into water sink, 
He outlines his ways 
With the melted gold which the narrow glen displays. 

In deepest forest rows. 
Where dusk mantles the lea 
And the twilight grows 
Breaking through the tree. 
He draws a silver spider frolic and free. 

Where water roses float 
By greenish-yellow light. 
He paints a fishing boat 
Which alabaster-white 
Swims on the lake like a swan in his princely might. 

Where the ocean is laced 
With mauve grayish sand, 
Or where sheep-folds are placed 
Near the pale green highland 
He creates new pictures for his never-resting hand. 



21 



AUTUMN 



Faded roses I saw dying. 
Joyless shone the crescent moon; 
Woodland singers I heard sighing. 
Southward they must wander soon. 

Fallen leaflets I saw scattered. 
Madly running husky and dry; 
All the fruits and grains were gathered, 
Through the fields I heard a cry. 

On bare branches I saw shiver 
Sweetest birds with languid voice; 
Swarms were flying past the river. 
Warmer nests arrest their choice. 

Meadows green were rudely striven, 
Lyreless lay the forest halls; 
And my thoughts were sadly driven 
To a heart that lonesome calls. 



22 



ON READING BROWNING'S 'STILL ONE MUST 
LEAD SOME LIFE BEYOND" 



I. 

Once in my strollings through the wooded hills 

I found fragrant needles of pines 

Like toys of the wind or like dishevelled hair 

Flown about and laid low to the ground 

As a thick carpet to soften the forest floor. 

Lovely butterflies were there. 

Spreading their wings to sip 

Eagerly the honey from flowers' tender lips. 

The path led into a valley where first the sun appears 

The meadows were all alive. 

Birds charmed with songs the ears, 

A flock of sheep, led by the shepherd boy, passed by 

While a swarm of wood-cocks in turmoil flew around' 

The ground was sown with crops of diverse hues, 

They formed a gay quilt of colors rich. 

And the sparkling dew-drops like jewels shone 

In the morning of that summer day; 

Trees, fruit-laden, mounted guard all along the way 

And then at the end suddenly afar 

A new forest I espied. 

With wondering eyes I gazed, and full of joy I cried* 

"O, another woodland beyond!" 

II. 

When dawn crept up from the eastern sky. 

And one by one the stars began to pale. 

At the call of the breaking day, 

Awoke the slumbering birds and flowers. 

I stood on the hanging mountain peak. 

And saw the sun shooting up, 

And the winged creatures on flight enjoying the breeze; 

The green grass glistened under the morning's first 

kiss. 
I heard the shrill cry of a springing gazelle; 
It was the signal to a frightened herd. 
I watched them climbing the hill-way- up. 
And then down the precipice they went ' 
To the other side. 

I followed the timid animals and crossed the path 
And rose to the summit. 
And lo! my eyes were arrested by 
Another hill-range beyond. 

III. 

When the train puffed through tunnels dark . .: i'.v ^ 

And left behind plateaus and valleys, r:,. : ..j v ;..;;;:• 



*23 



My eyes were greeted by novel sights, — 

No more the heights, 

All level regions, endless plains. 

Town after town; 

No dancing rivulets I found, but rivers large. 

Vineyards green at the castle's foot. 

And the smoke rising from factories huge. 

Another pull, another sight, — 

The folks were carrying on their shoulders broad 

Large cans of water to drink, 

And the streets resounded to their wooden shoes. 

I watched the wind-mills by the canal side. 

And grassy glades and cows all brown. 

But lo! not far appeared again 

Church spires, chimneys and throngings crowds. 

And I heard whistles calling labor to rest. 

And I cried in wonder: 

"Another city beyond!" 

IV. 

In foreign lands, across the chalky sea, 

I was treated to manners new 

And forgot the very sound of my mother-tongue. 

Again at length I reached the roaring ocean's strand. 

With its banks of sand, arrayed like steps of stone. 

All dry and white. 

The sky was dark in evening light, 

I watched the little sails trembling in the air 

And saw the boatmen clinging to their ship 

As a baby to the mother dear. 

One vessel carried me through stormy waves, 

Necklaced by the raving foam of dark blue brine. 

Days and nights I counted 

Upon that Noah's ark, — 

A motley human hive, a babel of tongues. 

Conveying loves and woes, worries and dreams. 

Such as the children of Adam have ever felt. 

Then one morning the white sea birds flew around 

our deck, 
And all at once from sea life the thoughts 
Turned in expectant mood 
To another land beyond! 



Oft in my infancy I was amazed to know 

That the hours were rolling by in a regular row. 

How I watched one night follow the other in punctual 

way, 
And after a dozen hours the night pass into day! 
But soon, with the turning of the wheel. 
The day closed a month. 

And when the month had gone twelve times 
The year was o'er. 



24 



Leaving recollections bright and sad 
And dreams of joys to come. 
As the cycle started afresh. 
How often did I fondly cry 
With memories and hopes: 
"Another year beyond!" 



VI. 



Today, by the cozy fireside as I sit and peruse 

The book of men and women's stories 

And on their life I muse, 

I count their failures, successes, disappointments and 

crowning glories. 
Their breath vitalizes me with a thrilling touch; 
With joy I tremble and feel 
Life indeed must be such, — 
A conquest of the unknown, 
A rush into the present, 
Into the future a dive, a deep discontent, 
A craving for something new. 
And as I watch the struggling souls 
Creating hopes and fears that the world heeds not. 
How am I startled to discover 

That each one of the race bears the divine spark 
That urges to Paracelsus' and Sordello's tasks, 
That every man and woman revolts with Promethean 

rage 
Against repression, injustice and impoverishment of 

heart! 
Then as deeper into life's process I search. 
In agreeable surprise I am happy to find 
That nothing but the stream of infinite fire 
Could have pushed mankind on so far. 
And I conclude 
That all of us have been leading another life beyond! 



26 



SPRING TIME 



Awake, awake, it is springtime's silver dawn! 
Hear the call, o slumbering snow-drop white. 
Thy tiny eyes will greet the grassy lawn. 
The freshening plains, the new sparkling light. 

Awake, awake, it is springtime's rosy birth! 
Ye nightingale and lark, with loudest strain 
Sing to the world amidst the flower-mirth 
That young life grew out of the old again. 

Awake, awake, it is springtime's youthful morn! 
Rise and dance with the budding yellow sprays. 
Tie with sun-lace ribbons the breezes newly born. 
And wind them around the roses on pathways. 

Awake, o heart, once more spring has her prime! 
It was in springtime that love to thee came, — 
Thou wert quickened to life by Easter chime. 
All rosebuds opened wide; who can thee blame? 



Lot 53 



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